On a steamy Alabama evening a few years ago, I saw something desperately flopping on the pavement in front of the local grocery store. At first I thought it was a small bird, but when it suddenly looped into the air I saw that it was an enormous moth. It struggled upward, scissoring the air with its wings, and then — to my surprise — it flew right in through my open truck window and landed awkwardly on the seat beside me.

This wondrous visitor was Antherea polyphemus, the largest moth in North America and one of a gorgeous retinue of silkworm moths whose beauty rivals that of any butterfly. With no functioning mouth parts, they live only about four days after emerging from their silken cocoons. My polyphemus moth friend appeared to be at the end of his short lifespan. He was missing a leg and a generous wedge of one wing, evidence of a harrowing escape from a hungry bird or the jaws of a gecko.

I let him rest on the seat during the drive home. He died somewhere along the miles of country road and so, after unloading the groceries, I placed the moth gently on my drawing table and sketched the graceful arc and lush patterns of those huge wings. A few weeks later, the sketch became the inspiration for a set of fairy wings:

Few artists use the technique, but pencil overdrawing (drawing the shading and details over a thin, flat layer of watercolor) is perfect for the subtle patterns and textures of a moth’s wing. You build the layers slowly and gradually, barely touching the paper with strokes as light as a moth, and the drawing becomes a deeply relaxing process.

We used pencil overdrawing in this week’s Draw Paint Letter email video lesson. If you like to draw, but are intimidated by realistic watercolor, it’s a good way to get your feet wet (so to speak).

Out early with Atticus and the grandbeagle, we took the dogs’ favorite route along the shore of Mobile Bay. The bluffs were alive with monarchs and gulf fritillaries feeding on native lantana, the brilliant orange of their wings so close to the color of the blooms that at first glance it seemed that the flowers themselves were breaking loose to rise in the cool morning air.

(This gulf fritillary, however, sketched in a local garden center and then painted in gouache and colored pencil, was snacking on verbena.)

She’s acrylic on black illustration board — something fun to paint on a rainy night. The black background is interesting, because you simply leave it showing where you want to have dark outlines (the lettering, for example) and the result is a rich, velvety matte black underlying all the bright colors.

Hector & Persephone never expected to find true love in the catnip patch.

Being a Pisces, Murdock was always polite and optimistic.

I love painting on the backs of old postcards. It’s fun working in a cozy 4×6-inch window, with old stamps and handwritten messages peeking through the color.

This week, I’ll be working on art for my Holiday Open Studio.

Just in time for Thanksgiving, the first of the fall garden broccoli matured. Nothing tastes better than tender, steamed broccoli carried straight from the garden to the stove. The Perfect Man drizzled a bit of lemon butter over the top — ahhhh. Heaven! Next week, the first round of cabbage will be ready. And the kale, sweetened by last week’s freeze, is growing faster than ever. Alas, a couple of 80-degree days last week caused the lettuces to bolt. (If at first you don’t succeed… plant, plant again.) And our cauliflower seems to be sulking, all leaves and no tasty center, while its neighboring veggies are happily producing abundant winter fare. Every gardening season has its little mysteries.

Meet the Bay Checkerspot butterfly, an ethereal creature with wings as richly intricate as tiny little two-inch Persian carpets. Biologists are struggling to save this species, which has fallen victim to nitrogen emissions from automobiles and the nearly complete build-out of its natural habitat in coastal California. I painted this one for my show, Postcards from the Edge of Extinction, which will open May 5 at the Mobile Arts Council gallery. Here’s how to paint a Bay Checkerspot: first, roughly sketch the main shapes in pencil. Then…

…block in the undercolors. I used gouache, an opaque watercolor paint beloved to illustrators because it is nonreflective and reproduces well. White or ivory wings, dark blackish body, and some leaves to provide a place for him to rest. Next…

…begin developing the details. Paint the outlines of his segmented wing patterns. Add some furriness to his thorax and his plump abdomen. Introduce some shadows along the lower edges of the leaves. Finally…

…work from left to right, using a small sable brush, and add the patterns on the wings. Take time to notice that each fresh row of “checkers” has its own repeated motif. Some look like gothic arches, some like round dots. Comparing the symmetry of the opposing wings will help keep you on track. Each side is a reflection of the opposite wing. I added a halo of soft orange and brown to help blend the whole image together with the old postcard beneath the paint.

P.S. The new year brought the first killing freeze to our Gulf Coast garden. We bid farewell to the broccoli crop and brought in the last of the savoy cabbage for soupmaking. But the collards, which only grow sweeter as the temperature drops, are still big and robust… and the snow peas, as thick and tangled as campaign promises, cover their trellis. Tucked in under a layer of compost, rows of garlic, leeks and onions dream of springtime.

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